


Everything and I Am Nothing At All

by rubyboys



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Canon Divergent, Character Death, Dystopia, F/F, Gen, Gore, Post-Apocalyptic, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyboys/pseuds/rubyboys
Summary: When the end of the world comes, it’s led by the hand of Delphine Cormier.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a short little dark future!fic, a wee bit post-apocalyptic with a not-very-nice!delphine (even tho delphine is fab, ily delphine my baby). as everrrr, comments appreciated <3 title from death defying act by angus & julia stone

When the end of the world comes, it’s led by the hand of Delphine Cormier. Maybe Cosima should be crying, but she’s not. She’s clutching at Delphine’s other hand, scavenging for peace in the lines of Delphine’s palm. A path underlaid with brimstone is not good for walking on the knees, and yet Cosima fumbles along anyway. True love’s kiss is still nowhere in sight. 

Cosima follows Delphine all the way to the end of the world. 

~ 

This chapter of Cosima’s life is isolated away from the others, as if the gods plucked out several pages and chose to scrawl out some random ideas in smudgy ink, rather than type out something sensical. 

It begins mid-sentence, in the middle of a panic for Sarah, where’s Sarah, where’s Kira, what has Rachel done, and Delphine says, “I have a cabin in the countryside. We’re to go there. You’re not safe here.” 

The car races between commas and they have to buy toothbrushes on the way. 

~ 

The rooms smell musty and old. The house itself is small and weak, and doesn’t feel like a safe place. The bedroom is tight corners and splintered wood, centred around a large beige-sheeted bed. 

The bed is a strange place to be. Each movement lags in the space, catching on the lint in the musty light. Cosima is slowed here, in both waking and sleeping moments. 

~ 

She dreams that she is a red, shining apple, and Delphine lifts her like a trophy and bites her like a dog. But hey, look, some fairytale magic found its way into this dream, because now Delphine’s choking and Cosima’s dying and it’s all hell at the hands of these two. They’ll fuck it all up. 

~ 

The days don’t pass quickly. Each day crashes on another full stop, brutal and blunt. The night falls with a scream, something like cosima you’re failing and cosima you’re dying. The guilt weighs heavy, prickling with ugly nails on her shoulders, and she uses Delphine’s cosy arms to push it all away. They cuddle, and Cosima closes her eyes and pretends. Delphine’s breathing sweeps her away to some place with a soft, regular tide, and they rest without care. 

~ 

Soon, I love you becomes I need you, but never out loud and not with any obvious change. 

Cosima doesn’t get out of bed until Delphine is awake, and she waits for Delphine to suggest food before she eats, and she stops asking about the others. 

The latest clone phone is most likely lodged between rocks at the bed of wherever the Yukon river leads out to, or maybe providing an uninteresting snack to a deepsea creature out in the Bering Sea. It’s a good thing, because to hear that phone ringing would be… 

Hush, love, Cosima reminds herself, in melodic French tones. 

~ 

At what point do Cosima’s sisters become people distinct from her? There’s the science of it, of course. Organisms are perfectly capable of being identical and yet separate, but maybe there’s less to it than that. The science falls short here. 

Like, Helena’s spirit. Bright and reckless. Cosima has lived in that hot place at times, just as she’s breathed in the same cynical sighs that Alison has. She’s bled like Sarah has, too. Disappeared like Kira. Been as destructive as Rachel. Is there a singularity here, a point at which all of their dissonant, chaotic melodies find each other and blend? 

If the DNA survives, maybe they’re all still safe, harmonies blended safely in one living skin. No need to fear, or mourn. 

~ 

She dreams that Kira is Snow White, and the apple is Sarah’s pulsing, blood-spurting heart. 

Yes fear, yes mourn. Yes run. 

~ 

Delphine is long legs and white skin and unbrushed golden curls. She’s poised like a sweet Grecian goddess in some overpraised ancient painting, even when bathing. Oh, Cosima would rip that painting to bits and drink it down like syrup. 

Mermaid arms rise out long and pale from the pastel-shaded bathwater to twist the water from her hair. Cosima wants to taste it. 

“You’re up,” Delphine announces gently, not yet making eye contact. Cosima feels herself inhale deeply, and curls up her toes inside her big fluffy socks. “Would you like to do anything this morning? Walk somewhere? I was thinking we’ve been cooped up in here such a long time. We haven’t had breakfast yet, though.” 

A walk. 

A walk is something different. Outlandishly different. It’s a fourth-wall breakthrough, dragging Cosima out of the toxic shelter she’d believed herself to be in. Not a prison, a place to stay. How can she have overreacted so hugely? A walk. A fresh taste of the world. Cold air, big spaces, green grass and the sound of water. Footsteps crunching, and--of course, Delphine. Just Delphine and Cosima and the big wide world. The big, wide, burgeoning world. 

Unfolding at its core, to reveal the raw, ugly picture of Cosima clinging to Delphine by the skin of her teeth. 

“I--no, I--I can’t. No,” Cosima manages, and shifts, looks at her nails, brings in her lower lip. “I’m not--you can’t do that to me. No.” Delphine pauses, grip softening on her coiled damp hair, and looks at Cosima. Her small breasts hang prettily, nipples just touching the water. Cosima could kiss them. She could strip in seconds, move over, part Delphine’s delicious long legs and kiss her low down, underneath the water. She could die, face buried between Delphine’s lean thighs. 

“We,” Delphine says uncertainly, “we could just have breakfast?” 

The walls are white and flecked with brown. They look like Felix’s stained bathtub. This room probably hasn’t been cleaned in a long while. How unlike Delphine. But breakfast, breakfast sounds tolerable. But saying yes isn’t an option. She can’t do this, can’t play further into Delphine’s nonsensical labyrinth. 

Cosima leaves the room and heads to the kitchen. Is it more pathetic to play into the hands of Delphine with some self-awareness, or pretend that she’s still in control? She fills the toaster compartments with bread and waits, hovering by the machine. They’ve gone cold and Cosima’s knees are aching by the time Delphine arrives downstairs. 

~ 

“I’m a coward,” Cosima announces. She’s naked, sodden through, standing on the shower mat. She’d been grazing at the words in her mind as she showered, and now she wrenches them into the air. They hit the hot steam like the neigh of a foal. 

Delphine looks at her with wide eyes. 

“Because,” Cosima stammers, and she feels cold now, “I’m not dying. I’m sick but I’m fine. And I’m wasting my time. I--I need to go back. We need to go back, Delphine.” A pause. She tries, “Please.” 

Delphine presses Cosima’s wet body in between her arms, as if she could tuck her in between her ribcage if she tried hard enough, with a gentle kiss on her forehead. She holds her and rocks her from side to side, hushing her, soothing her, and ultimately dismissing her. Cosima breathes in the heat from Delphine’s neck. She feels like a child. She feels like a fool. 

~ 

And when the end of the world comes, it’s led by the hand of Delphine Cormier. Cosima follows, kissing at her heels.


End file.
